The Text Is A Tissue Of Quotations

...what I Enjoy In A Narrative Is Not Directly Its Content Or Even Its Structure, But Rather The Abrasions I Impose Upon The Fine Surface: I Read On, I Skip, I Look Up, I Dip In Again. Which Has Nothing To Do With The Deep Laceration The Text Of Bliss Inflicts Upon Language Itself, And Not Upon The Simple Temporality Of Its Reading.

Cameras, In Short, Were Clocks For Seeing, And Perhaps In Me Someone Very Old Still Hears In The Photographic Mechanism The Living Sound Of The Wood.

I Cannot Classify The Other, For The Other Is, Precisely, Unique, The Singular Image Which Has Miraculously Come To Correspond To The Speciality Of My Desire. The Other Is The Figure Of My Truth, And Cannot Be Imprisoned In Any Stereotype (which Is The Truth Of Others).

I Passed Beyond The Unreality Of The Thing Represented, I Entered Crazily Into The Spectacle, Into The Image, Taking Into My Arms What Is Dead, What Is Going To Die.

The Photographer, Like An Acrobat, Must Defy The Laws Of Probability Or Even Of Possibility; At The Limit, He Must Defy Those Of The Interesting: The Photograph Becomes Surprising When We Do Not Know Why It Has Been Taken.